Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Brystls

My ex brother-in-law decided he wanted to open a pet shop. He took in animals from people that just walked in - everything from a 12 foot long python to a pet raccoon that took over the bathroom and had to be returned to the owner. Along the way he even had a Colorado black bear cub. One day he called to say he had taken in a female dachsund and wanted my husband and I to take it to our apartment for a few days to see how she behaved. The dog had been with us for about a week, and when we went to work, we put her in the bathroom. She had food, water, and could move about. One day the husband let her loose in the apartment. I got sick at work and was sent home, and all I could think about was lying down near the bathroom till the yuck passed. When I walked into the apartment, there were two holes the size of softballs in the bedroom wall, three of the venetian blinds were destroyed, and there was a pile of dog poop coiled like a snake in the middle of the bed!

We reported her behavior, and Allen said he would take her back to the pet shop. When I got there, he showed me an 8 week old schnauzer female puppy, obviously sick, that he had purchased from a breeder a couple of days before. I took her to our vet and then to our apartment and never returned her. She was very sick and after a long recovery, we knew we were keeping her forever.

She was my very best friend. She never got very big because of the illness when she was so young. She curled up next to me every night, snuggled on my lap when reading or watching TV, loved to ride in the car and go for a walk, was always there when I needed to vent, especially when husband #1 left a note on the TV that he didn't want to hurt me but married me to put him through college, and now that he had a master's degree, he was moving on with someone else.

Through the years I had Brystls aka Booger, I got another schnauzer and a chow. They were all best buds, and I used to take them to Grapevine Lake in Texas before it got really civilized. We would drive out, walk through the pucky weeds to the lake, go swimming and fetch sticks, walk back to the car, stop for ice cream, go home and get a bath, have a good meal and fall asleep together on the couch.

She started to sleep in other than her usual spots. She didn't eat the usual stuff - was more picky and avoided fatty foods. By this time, I had remarried, and we were expecting our first child and moving to the country. The vet diagnosed either cancer of the liver or an abscess of the liver. Booger started having seizures. I took her to the vet, and he changed her medicine. About a block from the vet's office, she seized in the car, a major one, and I turned around and cried all the way back, carried her in, and asked him to put her out of her misery. He refused. Told me to try the new medicine and bring her back in 4 days.

The next two days weren't any better, but then things always get worse before they get better. Then on the third day, Boog had a whole 4 hours when she ate, played, and acted like her old self. Then things went sour. She died in my arms at 2 a.m. and my husband gently lifted her from my arms and took her out and buried her under the one and only tree we had - a place we used to spend a lot of time together - me reading a book, Boog taking a nap or sniffing the area.

It's been 32 years since she passed away. There's a saying the "You don't get the dog you want, you get the dog you need". How true that is. She was my very best friend when I needed her the most.

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